


Threaded

by shirodaddyro



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Betrayal, F/M, Inspired by Music, Kidnapping, M/M, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Torture, Violence, Voodoo doll, Witchcraft, allurance, klance, shallura - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-18
Updated: 2018-01-18
Packaged: 2019-03-06 07:32:27
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,157
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13406430
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shirodaddyro/pseuds/shirodaddyro
Summary: The room was spinning when he tried to sit up. When his vision focused, he could see that there was a surgeons table in the middle of the rather large room. Bordering the room were cages, which were all empty, and a glass box which was not. Inside the glass box was a worn man dressed in torn rags sitting on a steel chair. His limbs seemed to be hanging off his body like they were being pulled down to Tartarus, only his right arm was missing and the shoulder was oozing with heavy red liquid. He didn’t move at all, which prompted Lance to scramble back against a wall.'I’m gonna die!'





	Threaded

There he was, tall and elegant as he strolled through the restaurant doors and spotted Lance. The strides he took towards Lance were charismatic, confident ones; Lance swore this man could well have been his competition if not his date.

“Hello,” He said, taking the opposing seat and offering a single nod, “Nice to meet you, Lance.”

Lance was in awe for moments before regaining composure, “Allistar, right?”

“That’s ‘sir’ for tonight.” Lance gulped. He noticed how proper the man dressed and acted, which combined with his white hair to make him seem much older than he was if you hadn’t seen his youthful complexion.

He tried to keep his chin up, smiling sheepishly, "Yes, sir." 

Allistar piped up as the waiter came by the table to take their orders. Lance observed how straight-to-the-point the older man was, taking almost no time to choose and order. He spent a lot of the time after eating, staring at Allistar’s snow white hair whilst rambling on about his everyday life- until he was informed of his oversharing and quietened down a bit.

Allistar paid for them, telling Lance that he could find some other way to pay him back, and led Lance out of the restaurant to an empty parking lot. Lance preferred to have gone to his house but Allistar insisted, saying that he’d preorganized transport from the restaurant earlier.

 “Wh- is this-” He stuttered out, watching as an expensive-looking black vehicle pulled up in front of them.

“Yes, our ride for the night,” Allistar was becoming impatient, his cold tone cutting off the younger man mid-sentence.

“Oh, man, you really have fine taste! I can respect that.” Allistar furrowed his eyebrows but gave no answer and instead decided upon opening one of the back doors for Lance, who practically jumped into the car without a second thought.

The leather seating seemed to still be warm, he realized. Giving no mind, he decided to take a look at the interior and saw he wasn’t alone in the car. Another man, about the same age as himself, sat in the driver’s seat. He had shimmering almond-shaped eyes and glass skin, the rest of his face covered by a fashion-type mask. Nothing else was visible from the back seat of the car, except for a small sack.

The chauffeur’s payment for the night? Why not just buy a wallet...?

He put his head back out of the door he’d just entered from, he questioned his date, “You’re going to catch a cold if you don’t come in, and that’d ruin basically the whole point of this so-”

For the second time that night, Lance was rudely interrupted in the middle of his sentence. This time not by Allistar speaking, but by a bag being thrown over his head. The last thing he sees is a pair of sad, twinkling eyes looking back at him.

The door slams shut and it’s even darker now.

“Woah, this is… kind of…”

A foreign voice speaks from- what Lance guesses- the front seat, “Quiet, lover boy! Or you we’ll make sure you won’t be seeing the light of day again.”

 Lance feels his throat close as a weight moves next to him and another door shuts as he begins to whimper.  _So, this isn’t…_

 “Good idea, Unilu,” Lance felt breath against his ear as Allistar seemed to growl out, “I’ve always wanted pretty blue eyes.”

The car jerked suddenly and Lance heard a loud  _thud_. He hoped it wasn't the driver, this car ride was already the worst it could be and the least Lance hoped for was to die at the time his kidnappers intended him to. 

He heard a groan from Allistar followed by snatches of curses,  _“Stupid fucking… punished…_ facite!”

The next moments seemed to slow down as the car zig-zagged down the road, closed-mouth screams flooding the air. It took more than a few seconds for the Cuban to notice they weren’t his own.

The pained cries were coming from the front of the car. 

Lance’s heart was hammering in his ears, terror turning in his stomach like the wheels of a cog. No more words were said during that ride, just a single man shrieking in intervals. It made the car seem more like a horrifying tattoo parlour than a kidnapper’s mode of transport.

When the car finally screeched to a stop, Lance felt firm hands on his arms and was pulled harshly out of the car. He heard doors being slammed shut, chatter and creaking before he was dragged up some stairs and thrown onto cold, hard ground.

He put his hands flat on the ground to push himself up but a foot on his back pushed him down harder, slamming his head down so hard Lance heard a crack and swore it was his skull.

“Stay down.” The man- Unilu- sneered, pulling the bag off Lance’s head and throwing him down a flight of stairs before he could glimpse the man.

The room was spinning when he tried to sit up. When his vision focused, he could see that there was a surgeons table in the middle of the rather large room. Bordering the room were cages, which were all empty, and a glass box which was not. Inside the glass box was a worn man dressed in torn rags sitting on a steel chair. His limbs seemed to be hanging off his body like they were being pulled down to Tartarus, only his right arm was missing and the shoulder was oozing with heavy red liquid. He didn’t move at all, which prompted Lance to scramble back against a wall.

_I’m gonna die!_

A steady clanking began in the distance and Lance saw deadlocks on the door he’d just been thrown through being unlocked. From the door emerged Allister himself, swaying side-to-side joyfully as he descended the stairs. Each step he took made Lance shudder, paralyzed by the fear that he couldn’t talk his way out of this.

Allistar came to a stop in front of Lance, humming and then pulling the most disgusted face. If this were any other situation, Lance would’ve laughed and joked about how _he_ was not the cause of such a livid facial expression. He stayed silent instead.

“I have prepared accommodation for you. Be thankful.”

He stood straight again, waltzing to the centre table and flicking his wrist. At first, nothing happened; but then Lance was sent flying across the room and landed snap-bang on the table. Before he could register what had happened, his hands and feet were tied tight to each corner, his body spread so Allister had easy access to any part of him.

He heard the flick of a switch and the room was full of darkness. A creeping feeling came he breathed in, realizing too late as oxygen mixed with something else flooded his lungs.

He felt slicing in his stomach as his vision dimmed. 

 


End file.
